


Secrets and Sins

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: A time of refuge during war, their dangerous rendezvous comes to a crashing halt when Draco reveals a life-altering secret. Too bad Hermione has one of her own to match.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bailey4047](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bailey4047/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BAILEY4047! HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ANGST!

The heath always gave Hermione the creeps when she was alone. Bordered along one side by a forest of ghastly, twisted limbs and tangled brambles, it seemed far too open for their secret rendezvous meeting place. She arrived early this time, turning over the coin in her hand. His message was simple: _3am._ At five minutes before three, she glanced out over the heather, blowing gently and dulled to a pale grey in the moonlight. The waves of flowers brushed one another, the sound a gentle whisper on the wind as her eyes scanned for any sign of movement.

They had been meeting here for months, this random rural location overlooked on any map. Her hand went to her gently swelling belly, the instinct to protect already filling her. The breeze raised gooseflesh over her skin as she skimmed the tree line. There was something different about tonight, an excitement welling within. Finally, she heard a gentle pop and his shock of white blond hair became visible as he hugged the treeline on his trek to her.

As it had every time she had seen him prior to this, her heart began to flutter, beating ever more rapidly with every step he took. Though they stood on opposite sides of the ongoing war, a facade in the eyes of both the Order and Voldemort, their hearts and magic were forever entangled.

His boots crunched over the ground, the heather caressing along his trousers and fingertips as he walked. She closed the gap between them swiftly, throwing her arms around his neck as her lips crashed against his, her teeth knocking her lip painfully. His hands went to her hips, his fingers pressing into her soft skin. "I've missed you, too," he breathed, half laughing at her eagerness.

She noticed it right away. The tightness in his voice. Stress and agitation. Hermione pulled back to examine him in the moonlight. A new scar was healing over his left brow, knitted together far too jaggedly to be his own handy work. "You're hurt. What happened?"

Draco raised his hand and pressed the wound with a single fingertip, wincing at the way it smarted. Hermione raised her wand to the spot, mumbling incantations under her breath to fix the shoddy mending. "Astoria tried to patch me up. She's not nearly as skilled at Healing as you are."

Hermione gulped hard, trying to swallow down the mention of his wife. The wife he took merely to keep up appearances. "What happened?" she repeated, feeling infinitely dirtier as he reduced her instantly to his mistress.

"There was a skirmish in Dover. Angelina Johnson was cornered by three others. I tried my best to get them away from her as subtly as I could, but she hopped onto a broom. Flew close enough to bust my forehead in two. Left her wand in the process."

There were three separate uprisings that afternoon alone and she had hoped, far too optimistically, that he had managed to keep away from them. She had not caught any word from Angelina's lot. Hermione studied his face, drawn taut, except for the parenthetical creases at the corners of his mouth, deeper with each month that passed drenched in war. The battle was taking a toll on every witch and wizard in Britain, but it pained her to see it written across his angelic face.

Her hand went to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes before placing his own hand over hers. "We need to talk."

Hermione felt a smile playing at her lips and her hand went to her stomach. He wasn't aware yet of the life growing within her womb. "Yes we do. But first," she leaned up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed along his loose collar, "you let me show you _exactly_ how much I've missed you."

"Hermione—"

She cut him off by covering his mouth with her own, shoving her fingers into his hair. Their meetings hadn't begun so intimately. Initially, he'd contacted her and proposed a partnership of sorts. He would feed her any information he garnered from the meetings and revels and, in turn, she would keep his espionage a secret.

Draco sighed into the minute gap between them when she pulled away to reposition herself, allowing her to pull him down into the heather stems. The flowers were tall enough to hide most of their forms as she opened her coat and laid upon it like a blanket. Their clothing fell away, piece by piece, the biting atmosphere of little consequence. He fit so perfectly into the cradle of her thighs, his body working sinfully against hers as he ran his hand the length of her leg to hook it around him.

Her head fell back, her hair tangling in the flowers as he gave a swift thrust and he brought his lips to hers. Their shared breath tasted of sin and secrets, a cloud of condensation and desperation in the cool night. Dew had settled over the heath and the chilled drops slid languidly over them, leaving striking trails along their faces, arms, thighs. "I love you," Draco murmured into her ear, his movements rocking them gently against the silk lining of her coat. "No matter what, remember that always."

In a state of heightened bliss, she heard his words but didn't have near enough brain power to piece together his meaning. "I love you, too."

Draco dipped his head, his breathing growing ragged as he kissed along the shell of her ear, his loving gestures so tender. As the end of the war seeped into every aspect of life, with both sides tipping the scales in their favor in a back-and-forth game of tug-o-war, their visits grew more meaningful. Rough and rapid romps turned to sweet and slow lovemaking. When they were together, it was easy to forget the world beyond the heath.

When Hermione cried out and Draco stilled on top of her, kissing every inch he could reach, she noticed that he was trembling. Lifting his face, she watched the way his eyes turned glassy and his lip quivered. His thumbs brushed against her forehead, swiping away the curls so he could plant kisses along her hairline. "We have to talk."

Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed up on her elbows. "What is it?" Her own plight was forgotten, the look in his eye enough to cause her bones to rattle with worry.

Draco pulled away, falling back on his haunches to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. Drawing breaths in through his teeth, he cupped his hands around his mouth and nose as he looked at her, dragging them down. "It's Astoria."

There she was again. His wife. A reminder that she was nothing but a kept woman. Guilt roiled in her belly as she pulled her dress over her barely-there bump. He hadn't even noticed in the darkness, a fact that stung a little. "What about her? Have you found a way to have the marriage annulled?"

"She's pregnant."

His declaration was quiet, carried away on the wing of a passing crow. Yet, it felt as though he had suckerpunched her right in the gut. The wind was knocked right out of her and she was glad she was already on the ground, because her knees would have surely given out. "Pregnant?"

Draco raised his face to look at her, the agony he felt written all over his countenance. "We can't do this anymore. I have to be there and present. For my son's sake."

"Your...son."

Hermione couldn't piece together the words he spoke, the synapses of her nerves refusing to fire in her brain. All she felt was a numbness that spread over her, from the ends of curls to the tips of her toes as though being immersed bit by bit in ice water.

Draco shrugged. "Malfoy men notoriously have one child. And that child is a male."

"So you came here to tell me you had a son on the way. And what? Accidentally had sex with me?" she shrieked, and he winced at the dramatic, shrill tone of her voice.

"It's not like I meant for this to happen. But the Dark Lord...he was beginning to get suspicious that we hadn't produced an heir yet. Which is why this has to end. My son deserves his mother and father, regardless."

Hermione wrapped her coat, soaked through with dew, around her shoulders, hugging her arms protectively around _her_ baby. She swiped angrily at her cheek as she turned furiously on the spot. As she was sucked into her apparation, she could hear Draco pleading with her to understand. The last image she had was of him standing, holding a hand toward her, as anguish twisted his face into something tragically handsome.

This would be the last memory she had of him. It would be enough to last her lifetime.

o-o-o


	2. Chapter 2

" _It's a little girl!" the medi-witch happily exclaimed, holding the newly birthed baby in the air for Draco to see._

_Instinctively, his eyes wandered to verify such a claim and, upon finding the exact opposite body parts than he expected, his eyes narrowed. The solitude of Malfoy Manor was pierced by two sets of screeches. Over his shoulder, Astoria was crying from her place on the bed. She'd been offered nothing for the pain, per the Dark Lord's orders._

_There was no way this was possible. For nearly a thousand years, since the earliest record keeping efforts, the Malfoy men had produced only a single male heir. Save one. Five generations back, one of his distant relatives had produced a little girl as a second child. Rumors had swirled viciously, buzzing that his wife had slept with another man. Such fabrications had led to the witch meeting an early demise—by her hand or his, it was unclear._

_Draco's mother looked upon the child with confusion and unmasked disgust. "Draco. A moment?"_

_He glanced over the tiny human, shrivelled and wailing, and followed his mother out into the corridor as his wife was sutured up. His heart had stopped at the sight of the child—his_ daughter— _and it was fighting harshly to catch up, beating violently in its cage. "What is the meaning of this?" Narcissa spat, wringing the sleeve of her robes anxiously._

" _I can assure you, I am every bit as perplexed as you are, Mother."_

" _That little trollop has made a mockery of this family! When the Dark Lord discovers this, he will have her killed at once!"_

_Whether she now spoke of his wife or his daughter, Draco did not know. They looked back into the room at the baby being handed off to Astoria, a patch of white gold hair protruding from the swaddled bundle. "Be reasonable, Mother. That baby is clearly a Malfoy. The curse must be broken."_

_His mother wrapped a firm hand around his arm and pulled him close, whispering conspiratorially. "There is no breaking it. It's in the magical cores of your ancestors. What have_ you _done? Or should I say, who? If not Astoria."_

_His throat began to close, and his vision tunneled as he stared through his mother. Hermione. The last night he'd seen her, she said she had something to share with him. But after he told her of Astoria's delicate state, she'd left him on the spot. Was it possible that her news happened to be that she, too, was with child? Did he have a son out there? He would be little more than a month old, if so. Draco's lungs burned with the force of them constricting, oxygen no longer being profused throughout his being._

_His eyes refused to focus, though in his haze, he could see his mother's lips part in shock. "What have you done, Draco Lucius?"_

o-o-o

The streets of London were animated, a familiar hustle and bustle amongst its occupants. Draco enjoyed slipping into Muggle London as a teen, breaking every one of his parents' rules. Those mischievous days in the forbidden city were long gone, but he now took full advantage of his wife's penchant for designer Muggle clothing. Walking the streets, it was the opportune time to people-watch. He took Estelle's hand in his own as she skipped merrily alongside him. "Daddy, can we get ice cream?"

"We've got to find your mother first, love," he told her, his eyes skimming the streets for his wife's stately figure. "Can you sing your ABC's for me?"

Estelle began her song, each letter matching up with a different magical creature, as they ambled along. They hadn't a place to be, with Astoria occupied by spending his money on expensive clothing and shoes. The air was fresher here, less heavy with the Dark Lord finally vanquished and Draco relished the simpler things with his ample free time.

"Daddy?"

Window-shopping through the pane of the sweets shop, he hummed. "Yes, Stell?"

"That boy has the same coloured hair as me."

Draco's head whipped to the side, his line of vision following her tiny finger to where she pointed. Across the road, sitting at a table on the cobblestones outside of a bookstore, a huge tome propped in his lap, was a young boy of about five. He had a head full of angelic blond curls that bobbed as he read aloud to no one in particular.

It took Draco the first two years of Estelle's life to tamp down the agonizing possibility that she was not his first, but his _second_. He'd reassured and argued with his mother, stating that there wasn't a way in this world that he could have had another child before her. Who he was trying to convince, himself or his mother, he didn't know. The curls, lifting and playing in the light summer breeze like Medusa's serpents, light as corn silk, were all he needed to see. He knew who the boy's mother was without ever setting on eyes on her. The boy must have felt their eyes on him because he looked up from his book and raised both brows at the sight of two fair-haired beings watching him. "Mummy?" he called, snapping his book shut.

He seemed to be concerned by his new visitors as he called for her. Draco heard her voice before she emerged from the doorway. He hadn't heard her jovial cadence in far too long, but he could recognize it with his eyes closed. Hermione was a vision before him, a specter from his past, but heavenly all the same. The years following the war's end had been kind to her, thickened her curves and brought a glowing vibrance about her. "Yes, Scorp? You can't possibly have—" Her eyes followed to where he stared and Draco watched the colour drain from her face. "Scorpius, go find daddy."

"But, mum—"

"Now."

The boy rose from his seat as Draco mulled over the fact that he was named after a constellation. The fact bounced frantically around his mind, warring with the fact that she had mentioned the child's father.

He felt his mouth fall slack and Estelle shook his hand. "Daddy? Ice cream?"

"In a moment, love," he shushed her distractedly, his feet involuntarily bringing him steps closer to Hermione.

When he was close enough that he could reach out a hand and touch her—and Merlin, the gentle feel of her magical core made him want that more than anything—he stopped, bouncing twice on his feet. "Granger?"

She swallowed. "Malfoy. What are you doing here? I thought you'd moved to France?"

"I did. _We_ did. But Astoria—she fancies Muggle clothing and her favorite clothier is here in London."

"Ah, yes. Of course. _Astoria_ brought you here," she replied, and Draco noted the distinctly venomous quality of her voice. Even after all of these years, she hadn't forgiven him of his grievances.

The little boy—Scorpius—sauntered out, eyeing Draco and Estelle shyly from the door frame. "Mummy, Mr. Minnow is giving Crooks treats again. I thought you said you didn't want him making Crooks fat."

Hermione looked behind her, and ran a hand over her son's hair, turning him and ushering him inside all the while. "Scorpius, I will be there in a moment. Take Crooks upstairs."

Draco's eyes darted upward to where he could see parted curtains revealing a living space above the store before he looked back down at the little boy once more. The child was a spitting image of him at the tender age of five, all except for his vivacious head of curls and the way he gnawed at his bottom lip. Those were his mother's characteristics.

"Do you have something to share?" he managed to choke out, eyeing the way the boy tossed a ball in the air and caught it swiftly, though it went askew as he walked inside.

Hermione crossed her arms, protecting her tensed body. He noticed the way her chest rose and fell rapidly. It wouldn't have been so evident, if he hadn't been staring at the large diamond ring afixed to her ring finger. "Draco, I would like for you to leave now."

Draco glanced at his daughter, whispering a wandless silencing spell around her. "Scorpius looks _awfully_ familiar. Don't you think?"

"Hermione, Arington Phipps has preordered three copies of the new—" The male voice faltered as a bloke Draco vaguely recognized from Hogwarts stepped out. He placed a possessive hand on Hermione's hip and extended his other. "Malfoy? It's good to see you. The sprawling French countryside treating you well?"

Draco eyed his extended hand, refusing to accept it. Instead, he tucked his hand into his pocket as the bloke ran his snubbed hand through his hair. Blond hair. Perhaps not as pale as his own, but fairer than most. Hermione put a hand back on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. "Cormac, Scorpius is entirely too quiet. Perhaps you could check on him?"

 _Cormac. McLaggen._ Draco didn't remember much about the man, except that he thought himself a great deal better at quidditch than he actually had been. He hadn't given the man a single thought in years, but suddenly here he was, standing in Muggle London, clutching onto the one person Draco had ever loved. McLaggen chuckled. "He certainly takes after his father. I was far too mischievous at that age, too. I'm not looking forward to his accidental bouts of," he looked around conspiratorially, verifying that no muggles were paying them any mind, "well, _you know_. When I wasn't much older than him, I got so angry I banished my dog into a tree three miles away."

McLaggen placed a kiss against Hermione's temple. "I'll handle Phipps, the barmy old bat. It was good to see you, Malfoy. We should have lunch one day while you're in town." His voice was insincere, the same false niceties that were exchanged every day after the war's end. Draco felt the desire to throat punch the fool.

McLaggen raised a hand in farewell. Draco didn't respond, instead glaring at his back as he retreated inside. Hermione pulled a few wrapped candies from within her pocket, kneeling down to Estelle's level and ridding her of Draco's silencing spell. "Do you enjoy butterscotch?"

Butterscotch. Draco's favorite. Estelle nodded greedily, scooping the shiny candies from Hermione's hand. Hermione smiled and tucked the girl's pin straight hair behind her ear. "Well, I hear the ice cream store there on the corner has some of the best butterscotch ice cream. Perhaps your daddy will take you?"

Estelle's eyes grew wide and she shook Draco's hand excitedly. "Can we, daddy? Can we?"

 _Well played._ "This isn't over," Draco growled under his breath, lifting his daughter up to hold her while she squirmed impatiently.

"He is _my_ son. _Cormac_ is his father," she hissed, looking over her shoulder to ensure that her husband wasn't within earshot.

"You selfish—"

"Draco, darling!"

Astoria's voice grated over his fragile nerves as she approached. He glanced around behind him and saw a lethal smile on his wife's face. When she reached them, she tucked her arm into his elbow. She knew of the pair's sordid past, though she and Draco had never spoken of it. Her positioning slightly in front of him. as though to hide him from Hermione, was no mistake. "Hermione Granger! I haven't seen you in years. How have you managed to stay out of the papers?"

Her eyes dragged up over the bookshop, her lip curling at the crumbling bricks of the façade and faded sign outside. The answer was evident—she'd kept away from the wizarding world completely. Hermione's face was equally icy when their eyes finally met, a defensive stance settling over her shoulders. "I think you should both leave."

"We do have a fair bit more to accomplish today, Draco," his wife conceded, her hand digging into his elbow as she tried to pull him away. "So good to see you." With that, she took Estelle from Draco's arms, setting her on her feet and taking her hand to start for the ice cream shop.

"I _will_ be in touch. About that _book_ ," Draco threatened, malice in his tone as he fought the acrid bitterness down.

As Astoria pulled him away, chatting all the while about this blouse or that dress, Draco's heart felt as though it were going to explode from his chest. He was fairly certain this is what a heart attack must surely feel like. That child was no offspring of Cormac McLaggen.

He had a _son_. His _first born._

o-o-o

" _Think of the children. What this would do to them. Cormac is the only father he has ever known. To take him away from him now is not only selfish, but irresponsible. And your daughter doesn't belong in the middle of this. For once in your life, make the right choice. Not the easy one."_

Draco crumpled the parchment in his hands, setting it alight by sheer force of his seething fury. She had no right to coach him on what was _right_ when she had kept his _son_ from him.

 _But maybe she was right._ A tiny voice in the back of his head told him that Hermione had made the most difficult decision of her life in keeping Draco away. To make her secret known would have put not only Draco and Astoria in danger, but Hermione would have been killed on the spot. As it were, Draco had to produce falsified documents to Voldemort, dating back hundreds of years, showing that it was possible for a Malfoy to produce a female heiress. It was the only way his wife went on to live another day.

But would Draco have what it took to make such a difficult choice? With the newfound knowledge that there was another young Malfoy running around, no idea at all that he was a wizard, let alone a Malfoy. He glanced briefly at his arm, the faded Dark Mark peeking out from under his shirt sleeve.

_Perhaps he's better off not knowing._


	3. Chapter 3

As he locked the cupboards within the apothecary, Draco mused that it had to be the coldest Samhain in decades. Snow was gently falling, though it melted before it touched the ground. It had been three years since Astoria passed and he had no doubt that Estelle would be attempting to reach her through the thinned veil. He heaved a heavy sigh and flicked his wand to extinguish all light.

A soft knock at the door startled him and he turned to see a boy about his daughter's age shivering on his stoop. Draco flicked a single lantern on and unlocked the door. "Students aren't supposed to be in Hogsmeade after dark. Who is your Head of House?"

The boy pulled the hood of his traveling cloak back and Draco nearly choked. "Please, Mr. Malfoy," he stepped into the shop and shook a head of unruly curls out, "Estelle said I could find you here."

 _Granger is going to kill me._ Draco cleared his throat. "You really should be getting back to the castle. I'll send for," he eyed the green and silver scarf, "Professor Zabini to come and retrieve you."

"I know who you are," the boy interrupted. "I've known since that day at the bookshop. Estelle believes, too. We can feel it—the familial bond."

Draco stilled for a moment, allowing the feel of the child's magic to brush against his. There was no denying what the boy was saying was true. His eyes roved over his thin frame, his face so clearly Granger's. Except for the moonlight of his hair and pewter eyes. "What's your name?" he questioned, though he knew the answer. The ode to his family's tradition had never left his mind.

"Scorpius. From the stars. Just like you and the rest of the Blacks."

"Your mother would literally kill me if she knew you were here right now," Draco told him, eyeing the empty streets of Hogsmeade.

Scorpius shrugged one shoulder slyly. "What she doesn't know won't kill her. Or you."

The smirk that spread across his son's face made Draco's heart ache with the lost years of kinship. He locked the door and with a wave of his hand, the curtains were drawn over the window. Removing his coat, Draco tossed it on his worktop and pointed to a stool where Scorpius could sit.

He leaned on the worktop, staring at a nick in the wood as he tried to gather his words. Nothing seemed appropriate; no words were strong enough to describe the pain, the desperation, and the regret he had felt building toward this very moment. "I want you to know that my absence wasn't for a lack of wanting you. Things were...complicated. Cormac McLaggen believed he was your father and I truly never knew of your existence until that day in London."

"Mum lied to me. And to dad." Scorpius shot him a look. "My other one."

Draco leaned on the worktop across from Scorpius, dropping his face into his hands. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him and he had to swallow down a massive lump in his throat before he could continue. "Your mother only lied to save her life, my life, and your life. When you were born, things...I wasn't a good man." He fought to find the words to describe who he was thirteen years prior. A Death Eater. Scum. To this day, no one knew how much information he'd fed to Granger. The espionage he risked his life for. But it hadn't been enough—too many people had still died, some by his hand. He didn't deserve to be walking the streets.

Scorpius' eyes shot to Draco's covered left forearm briefly before he looked up. "I know. Estelle told me everything."

Draco had never let go of the idea of one day meeting his son, though he had hoped it would be on his own terms and after he'd had time to prepare. Overwhelmed and tired, his mind wanted to blame Granger for putting him in such an awkward position. She had kept this secret from him in the beginning, choosing to leave their last night in the heather rather than to stay and reveal her delicate state. It was she who still kept Scorpius away, under the guise of being McLaggen's child, guilting Draco into maintaining his distance. He spent countless nights wondering what he would have done if he'd known.

Granger had done the right thing, and he hated her for it.

"Scorpius, this—" Draco cleared his throat. What does one say to the son he'd abandoned for thirteen years? "I'm sorry that you had to find me this way, instead of me fighting for you all along. There is no excuse."

"My dad is a good one," he replied, as though Cormac's behavior made up for every wrong Draco had ever committed. "He knows he isn't my father—it's why my parents split up. And I don't blame you for anything. Mum has talked about the war and how everything was chaos and no one knew who to trust. Estelle told me about your family and how Voldemort made you do things you didn't want or he would kill you."

Estelle didn't know a tenth of the things Draco had ever done, but he could clearly remember having to explain the best he could, with Astoria's guidance, before she left for Hogwarts. Their family name was in tatters and he knew she would face hardships.

Scorpius eyed the potions Draco had been brewing with curiosity. "Are you making a bone-regeneration potion? I've asked Madam Pomfrey if I could start apprenticing to her soon. Professor Zabini thinks I could be a gifted Healer by the time I take my NEWTs."

Feeling the swell of pride that the boy before him—his _son_ —mirrored him, Draco waved him over. Thankful for the momentary change of subject and with the same excitement in his tone, Draco pointed to a glass jar next to the cauldron. "I'm trying something new. Laced it with a colony of stitch weavers. My thinking is that these little buggers can go in and repair the muscle and tendons from within."

Scorpius removed his coat and scarf and pulled on a pair of gloves. "What do you think about harvesting the muscle tissue of a similar mammal after death? The tissue would help the damaged organic material to regenerate."

Draco watched as Scorpius excitedly withdrew his wand and stepped up to the cauldron.

o-o-o

" _I'd like to request to meet in the gardens of the Manor this Saturday for tea. We have much to talk about. Bring Scorpius."_

Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand, riotous anger coursing through her. She stomped toward the floo, fully prepared to give Malfoy a piece of her mind. Her hands shook as she tossed a handful of the glittery emerald powder into the hearth, narrowly avoiding her carpet. When she emerged into the fireplace at Malfoy Manor, a ward held her in place. She pounded fiercely at the ward, knocking against it silently. "Draco Malfoy, you open this up, right this instant! I'm going to _kill_ you!"

Malfoy appeared at the top of the staircase, towel-drying his head. He was clearly in the middle of dressing, as he wore only a pair of low-resting black trousers. "Granger? It's not Saturday. And I don't see my child in tow."

He sauntered down the stairs at a leisurely pace that made Hermione want to thrash him. "You bastard! How _dare_ you contact him? It wasn't your _place_!"

Malfoy saddled up on the other side of the ward, tossing the towel over one shoulder before he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I didn't contact him—he found me. I've kept my distance for thirteen years, witch," he replied coolly, narrowing his eyes. "All thanks to you."

"Open this blasted ward!"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think I will. Far less chance of castration this way."

Hermione roared in frustration and pounded her fist against the invisible wall one final time. "How did he find you? What did you do?"

Malfoy had the audacity to look hurt before he steeled his features. "He and Estelle figured it out. Though it wasn't all that difficult, given the ancient blood running in our veins. Their magic recognizes the connection, Hermione."

"Why couldn't you just stay hidden in France?" Hermione demanded, and she watched as he subconsciously touched the fading scar of his Dark Mark. She'd seen the marring tattoo more times than she could count and it continued to have no effect on her. As she dragged her eyes up over the rest of his pale frame, however, new scars she'd never seen or touched or kissed sobered her. She swallowed thickly, turning her attention to a space over his left shoulder.

"After Astoria passed," he began, averting his eyes, "I needed to feel the familiarity again. The castle in the distance, the students rushing in on their weekend trips. Scorpius needed to be here, with people I trusted."

Hermione felt the tension in her shoulders fall away as she uncrossed her arms and dropped her hands to her sides. "What a mess."

Malfoy fixed his thunderstorm gaze on her once more. "You should have told me, Hermione. That night in the heather. _You should have told me!"_

She heard the way his voice caught in his throat, though he tried to hide it. She would never regret her decision to cut Draco out of the picture to save all of their lives, but she felt sad for the position he now faced. Years of being the absentee father to a brilliant young man. A brilliant young man who had reminded her of her lost love every day for thirteen years. "And what would you have done? Hmm? Astoria—your _wife—_ was also pregnant. There were no other options."

"For fuck's sake, I was a resourceful little prick back then. Fear and my love for you would have driven me away from them all. I could have run, finally joined the Order. Faked my death."

"Voldemort would have killed Estelle, and likely Astoria as well."

"I didn't care about them then! I love Estelle with everything I have _now_ , but _then_ I would have left it all behind, before I got attached. I _loved_ you, Hermione. I _still_ love you!"

Hermione angled back, feeling as though he'd smacked her across the face with his confession. So many nights she'd lain with Cormac, a placating smile on her lips and Draco on her mind. What he was doing, where he was, if he ever thought of her. To hear him say it aloud rattled her nerves and burned through her like fire.

Tears stained the front of her shirt. When had she started crying? "You can't say that. I've been here for all of two minutes and already you're saying things you don't mean. You haven't changed."

Draco lowered the ward and took a step toward her before he reached out and tugged her arm to pull her to closer. "I told you that night that I loved you, no matter what. I meant that. I grew to love Astoria, but it was never the same. We never had the connection or the...what do muggles call it? _Chemistry_. I've missed you and I've missed so much of Scorpius' life. Please, don't take him away again."

Draco backed away, pulling away from her space and brushed a curl behind her ear. "He sat with me for hours the other night, working on a new potion. He's astute and gifted. Blaise is right—he'll be a junior Healer before he even leaves Hogwarts."

A weak smile tugged at her lips. "No matter how much I wanted him to enjoy Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, he always loved Potions. He's entirely too much like you."

He laughed, swiping at one of his own tears with the back of his hand. "Please, let me visit with him some."

Hermione studied him, the earnestness in his eyes and the pleading in his tone. "Cormac is good to him, even if we didn't work out."

"I know. Scorpius told me. I have no intention of severing that relationship—I'm not quite as vengeful as I was at twenty."

"I suppose I can bring him on Saturday."

"You'll stay for a bit, as well?" he asked, hopeful and cautious.

Hermione gave him a proper grin and shrugged as she stepped into the fireplace, her heart racing. "Estelle needs an older woman to confide in, now that she's reaching dating age."

Draco's smile fell and his face began to turn crimson. "Hold on here. Who said anything about dating?" he questioned, raising his hands as if to stop her from leaving. Hermione let out a cackling laugh. As she rushed through the darkness of the floo network, she felt lighter than she had since their final tryst in the wildflowers.

Maybe her love wasn't lost at all—just waiting for the perfect moment.

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story is now done! Plenty of drama. Plenty of angst. Plenty of hope. Please review!
> 
> I started a facebook page where I can share pictures of things that inspire the people, places, and things in my stories; share excerpts of writing; apologize when I'm flaky; interact with readers. Feel free to join! It's called The Scryer's Eye!

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review!


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